The Court of Blood
by Alucarda MetalHead
Summary: Pro-Vampire Community lead by the infamous Elizabeth Bathory, Alucard's first wife and the love of his life. A romantic tale of adventure and religion, and the vampires' point-of-view. Basically how Alucard came to be and his feelings for Integra
1. Prolong

The Court of Blood  
  
By Dogwitch  
  
Note: Most of the people in this story are real, not fictional. I have done extensive research on miss Bathory and pals, and this story has gone as close to real historical events as possible. This is just a funny Hope-is- crazy fanfiction (Fan of Elizabeth and fan of Hellsing) that tries to find reasons for the historical Elizabeth's bloodlust and how Alucard came to be. Yes, I'm a feminist asshole. So, if you're retarded and don't know these people, I suggest you stop reading goofy fanfictions and research the sixteenth century, yo!  
  
DISCLAIMER: I think it's pretty obvious that I don't own Hellsing, morons. But I do own Elizabeth's and the Court's characters' and this idea, so if you screw with my talent I will find you, rip open your stomach, and suck the maggot feces from your intestines, assholes!! Okay...where's my medication...  
  
Prolong  
  
August 7, 1585; Hungary...  
  
The weather was harsh that winter, and tonight was no exception. The rain fell in sheets, and thunder roared the skies. On a massive mountaintop fortress, the Castle Csejthe boomed with excitement. Celebration filled the elegant, medieval halls of the palace, with dancers of esteemed beauty and grace, lively and joyous music, and great feasts with the best dishes from all over Hungary. It was the Countess Elizabeth Bathory's twenty-fifth birthday, and the entire family had nothing but joy and entertainment.  
Friends and family gathered round in chat in the dining hall. Sigismund Bathory was drinking himself stupid as he always did. The countesses husband, Count Ferencz Nadasdy Bathory, engaged in conversasion with Janos Ujavary, the cheif executioner and major domo, and Andrew Cardinal Bathory, prince of Transylvania. The count's mother stood in the corner sipping her own drink, watching them intollerably. But Countess Elizabeth herself was not happy in the slightest. She sat in her thrownly chair at the end of the dining table, a palm resting against her face in a bored and mirthless way. No one even noticed her downcast expression.  
To the countess, all of this only meant one more year of more miserable failed attempts at the family she always desired. For eleven years she had been trying to have children with her husband, but he was always gone to war or other business. And when he was around, he never had time for her. Also, with her husband gone, she craved for her own satisfaction, more than other women of her time.  
Her eyes circled the room, eyeing the social sheep she made herself call friends. Ferencz seemed to enjoy her retched family more than she did. Sigismund, though young as he was, was still crazier than anyone she'd ever met, and she loathed being anywhere near him. Janos and Andrew she didn't mind, but her mother-in-law she hated with a foul passion. She didn't even really love her husband, and was sure he didn't love her. Love didn't court couples, power did.  
Snorting to herself with her own pessimistic jokes, her eyes suddenly fell on someone in the corner, who didn't seem to be talking to anyone, that she had never seen before. He was a very tall, thin, and muscular man, dressed in courtly attire of mostly black, with long elbow-length black hair covering most of his pale-white face. She held back a gasp when she realized just how beautiful he was. Though she could barely see his eyes, she could tell he was looking at her  
In the back, two servants waited for orders from their masters. One was a woman of about thirty five with pulled back dirty brown hair and gray- blue eyes. Her name was Ilona Joo. And standing next to her, much less professionally with her arms crossed over her chest, was Thorko. She was a girl of about Elizabeth's age, only barely called a servent, but more of a friend. Since they were children, Elizabeth had disobeyed her parents and royalty by befriending a poverty-stricken slave, even though she had always looked up to Thorko. It was her 'power' she craved, a strange...energy that connected the girl to the earth, the heavens, and hell.  
Thorko was a beast. Ever since Elizabeth met her, she'd known something was different about her, a certain animal that ran with the wind, could hear the voices of the ancestors past, and followed the moon. But she would never tell a soul, because she loved Thorko as a sister and a mentor. And Thorko loved Elizabeth.  
And as her duty, she recognized the countess's remorseful face, and sauntered over to her side. "I know, Elizabeth." She said, starteling her out of her day-dreaming. "Listen, the good Lord will grant you your children sooner than you think. But please, try to enjoy yourself this evening."  
Elizabeth smiled and placed a hand on Thorko's. "Thank you, my friend. But I think I will turn in tonight."  
"Are you sure?"  
"Yes. I don't fit with this crowd--not tonight. Will you tell Ferencz that I've gone to my chambers?"  
"Yes my lady. Anything else?"  
"No thank you Thorko." The countess rose from her chair, and as she smiled a goodnight to her, and as she did so she glanced back to find the dark man, but found no one. Not a trace that anyone had been there. She wondered if he could have been a chimera of her lonely imagination, and sulked, leaving the dining hall.  
The countess found relief by walking farther away from the noise and mayhem, up the staircase and down the long corridor. She enjoyed the sound of the rain and thunder, the way the wind danced against the glass outside. It made her feel alive. She sighed when she reached the door of her room, and placed her hand against the door knob.  
"Countess?" A silky, strong voice filled her ears and she jumped slightly, then turned to meet the dark stranger she'd seen at the party. His head was bowed slightly in respect, but also as if once again not to show her his face. She studied him in silence, holding her breath, her amber eyes darkening with subtle lust as he knelt down to kiss her hand.  
"Forgive my saying so, but you seemed almost lifeless back with your husband and the others. How can a woman of queenly status such as you not feel the joy of the earth?"  
Her eyes narrowed, realizing he saw right through her. "It's not enough." She found herself admitting almost sorrowfully.  
"Hmmph." The pale stranger smirked, understanding.  
Elizabeth batted her long eyelashes, and stood straight. "I believe I know every count and prince in this land, apaallat, but I have no recognision of your face. Tell me, who are you? One of my husband's soldiers perhaps?"  
"I, my countess, am simply a prophet. A savior if you will."  
"What? What madness do you speak? I have no patience for the mindless preachers of Christianity!" She snarled.  
He began to chuckle, and lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. His stare was of deep intensity, his pupils sharp and fixed on her like a predator to its prey, circled with blood red pigment that spoke worlds of torment and libido. "Not that kind of preacher."  
She gasped silently in fear and desire, not realizing that they were both now in her chambers. The hair on the back of her neck rose when she understood.  
"You're...My God...T-Tepes...!"  
"No, do not fear me my lady, I mean you no harm. On the contrary--" He smiled evilly, "I only wish to converse."  
But Elizabeth did not apprehend."You're dead...! You can't be here! It's not possible! Get out! GET OUT--!!"  
Suddenly, Elizabeth found her arms grasped tightly by his powerful, murderous hands, with his body towering over hers and his eyes boaring an inch from her feeble face. Elizabeth was silenced, her words choking in her throat, her body trembling and her eyes huge and terrified. "...ordogg..." She managed to shake out.  
"You are the demon, girl." He spat, tighening his grip on her small body. "I know. I've seen you, I've listened to your mind, your deepest secrets and desires...and fears. Your blood boils with anticipation; your icy, bloodlusting heart is freeing its' needs more and more. You, Countess Elizabeth Bathory, you are the harbringer of blood and chaos." Then his rough voice turned soft and seductive. "And I have waited a hundred years for you."  
Elizabeth swallowed, her fear subsiding somewhat into confusion. "What...What do you want?"  
He licked his lips, his long raven hair falling infront of his eye as he placed one arm under her waist and ran a finger from his other hand across her cheek, feeling her warm skin and pulsing heartbeat. "To lay the world at your feet."  
She blinked, taken aback. "...What are you?"  
"I am what I said. A savior. I 'preach' words of creation from destruction and give life to the lifeless. I am upire, the lifeless drinker, the no life king. And I've come to 'preach' to you, countess."  
"Are you going to kill me?" She felt helpless--she had no one.  
"Only your body. But I will give freedom and pleasure to your mind. You will become a Goddess, Elizabeth. Every desire and need you ever conceived will become yours to own." She blinked in thought. "But I can't, not in less you give me permission."  
A sharp electricity stabbed through her, and she jerked from his grip, gritting her teeth and her eyes narrowed in loathing. "Are you trying to tell me that I would even consider letting some bastard demon violate my body? You're even crazier and stupider than I thought--with the very adacity to intimidate me! I am Countess Elizabeth Bathory, the most powerful woman in Hungary, and I can have anything I want by just the orders of my men."  
"Ah, can you, or do material possessions not suite your needs?" His smile broadened. "I see what you want, woman. As you said, status is not enough. But this--" Again, he was up against her body, and before she had time to even gasp in surprise, his soft, powerful hand cupped her bosom, his long fingers caressing her clolthed flesh. She shuddered, her fear returning, "--This, maybe, could be what you're searching for." He met her eyes, like ruby striking topaz, and her pupils relaxed and opened to take in the beauty of him. She didn't move, and was overcome by panic, but also mixed with something else. "Carnal means, my dear. That is what created you, and that is what makes you now. It is nothing to be ashamed of, nor is it a sin. But a gift, a gift to give the one you love, or to establish your own satisfaction. It is yours to own no matter what any man or woman tells you. And I, my lady, am here to serve your needs."  
She swallowed, her skin suddenly becoming sensitive and begging to be touched, but she paid no attention. "A dead man? A dead man to serve my 'needs'?"  
He ignored her remark and gently set her down on her bed, hovering over with sweet intensity. "I'll give you everything Elizabeth. You'll live forever, with me. I can give you gratification like you've never felt in your life."  
"Will you give me children?" She found herself saying, suddenly relaxing under his body. He looked at her strangly, then nodded. She looked away, thinking, "If my husband found you..."  
"You don't love your husband, countess. He never comes to you, cannot possibly satisfy your needs and desires, nor is there when you need him. Submit to me, and I shall give you everything you ever wanted."  
She closed her eyes, and smirked. "I never submit, my lord."  
He smiled, baring his teeth playfully, and stuck his hand into her brassiere, and she gasped in enjoyment as his fingers caressed her lightly. A claw extended from his finger and he ripped her bustiere in half, exposing her full breasts, and he circled his sharp, long tongue around her erect nipple like a carnivor feeding, and on instinct his canine teeth extended in hunger, but he held back, afraid that she would regect his advances. So he went farther and pushed her dress up, running his hand along her inner thigh. Her legs bucked slightly against his waist, and she cried out when his fingers fondled her soft folds like clay. She writhed in impatience.  
"If you want my gift Elizabeth, just say so." He ran his tongue again over her chest and stomach, removing all of her clothing as he did so. He then took off his own shirt, revealing his powerful pale chest and abdomen, his black hair falling along all the beautiful hard curves of his body. When she gazed at this amazing sight, a feeling came over her of deep lust and she felt her body completely loosen, her arms extended and thighs open, her head thrown back in readiness. Readiness to receive the vampire.  
He enveloped her in his arms, and she groaned with the feeling of flesh on flesh. He let her hair down, flowing across the bed like a sea of night. Their fingers explored the others body, one cold and harsh, one warm and sensual. He dropped his head on her shoulder, feeling the pulse of her throat. He groweled, pressing his throbbing fangs against her flesh, testing it.  
"The choice is yours, my lady."  
Elizabeth trembeled, awaiting, desiring him. Then she stretched her neck and wrapped her arms around him. "Yes...!...Vlad Tepes...Yes! Take me!"  
He smiled in triumph. "Please, call me Alucard..."  
He thrust his fangs into her soft flesh.  
Elizabeth cried out. "Uggh!!" She grit her teeth together and shut her eyes as she felt his teeth go deeper and deeper, pain turning to pleasure, sucking the poisoned life from her. He held her tighter, his palate filled with the taste of her blood. The sweetest and most powerful blood he ever tasted. Her body climaxed over and over, and all she could do was scream in ecstacy. Then her eyes rolled back and her mouth fell agape, her cries subsiding.  
She was still.  
Alucard, the upire, pried his teeth from her now lifeless throat, his lips stained with crimson life. A howl escaped his chest, that filled the entire castle. Then he looked down at her--twitching, eyes white and blind, mouth searching in vain for air. He leaned down and kissed her on her dry and dying lips. "Your mortal body dies, my love. Now you become the superior beast, the night walker, the blood drinker. Come upire, come to meet with me."  
Time stood still, then she twitched. Suddenly, her whole body buckeled and writhed, and she screamed in pain. Arms and legs thrashed uncontrolably as her skin became pale and cold, and as she cried out in horror, her own canine teeth grew to sharp weapons, throbbing and hungry. Then she quieted down, gasping for breath from the survival of her mortal bodies death.  
Her heart silenced--forever. Her blood stopped flowing and her organs stopped working. She was dead, yet concious. She opened her eyes--blood red and menacing--to see with her new upire sight.  
In that moment, Countess Elizabeth Bathory knew that not even Heaven nor Hell could stop her now.  
  
End of Prolong.  
  
, 


	2. Make The Kill, Drink The Spill!

Chapter 1: Make The Kill, Drink The Spill!"  
  
December 2005 Los Angeles, California;  
  
The city streets were loud and dirty, just like the people. You couldn't last one night here, not going one minute without the sounds of screams, gunfire, or car horns. Apartments were rarely in any good condition, and if they were they would be robbed or burned down, or even be the scene of a massacre. Some of the worst crimes of modern day society happen here. And the worst part is, no one really cares. Everyone has their own lives and schedules to keep to, and everyone has an opinion about somebody else. Forced into two main lifestyles, rich or poor, no exceptions. To live in the ghetto, and children grow up without fathers or even food, learning at early ages to abandon charity and sensitivity. For the rich, all that had to be done was to step over someone else, purchasing large cars and nice suits to show off their power. All that can be said for the wealthy or the hard-up is the same. pride creates blood-letting monsters in humans. You can't be naiive, and the only way to survive is to give into the madness, to let the City of Angels rule you.  
If only they knew that the real wonders and beauty of the world, if Paradise, was actually under their feet, in a place no one would think to go.  
It was raining, heavilly, and cold. It was twenty degrees above zero, rain so cold it seemed upon falling it went from snow to water. Though clouds layered the sky, it was a full moon, swelling with energy.  
It was on these nights that she walked the city.  
Downtown, it was getting close to midnight, and the hustle of the night life was beginning. Late-night couples, punks, whores and their pimps- -all out for things you couldn't do during the day. Among the small crowds, concealed from any wandering eyes, was a girl. She was clad in black; simple jeans, knee-high army boots, and a sweatshirt with a hood over head, were only the bottom half of her pale face and random strands of raven- black hair poked out from the opening. No one would notice her, or suspect her for that matter.  
Everyone except them. At least the smart ones anyhow. But humans were not intelligent in the slightest, especially this pathetic filth that went to Dark Shadows, a mainly goth and S&M dance club, which was her destination.  
But she was patroling, and hunting. For protection, for game, for dinner. Whatever. It was her choice.  
BLAM!  
Suddenly, she felt a severe pinch as a silver bullet went through the side of her breast and out her hip. She grunted and staggered, falling slightly. Screaming and panic filled her ringing ears as people began to scramble away from the scene. A click was heard from the roof of a bar, and her head jerked up and her hood falling back. Her eyes were sparkling ruby and her lips pulled back, revealing sharp inch-long fangs.  
A man stood atop a building, dressed in a priest's outfit and holding a three foot shot gun. He looked down at her in a patronizing way, uttering a prayer. Her eyes opened wide, and she smiled widely like a beast.  
"Well well, if it isn't the fuckin' Vatican after my ass AGAIN."  
"Abomination! May God have mercy on your soul." He raised the barrel again.  
"Heh." She leapt up into the air and stood infront of him, and he jumped back, startled. She reached into the back of her pants, and pulled out a ruby red casull. "Well?" She said amused. "Don't you wanna play, jack ass--GRRAH!!!"  
He had punched her in the stomach, and in his palm was a long knife. The end of the blade was shaped like a cross. But her hungry eyes looked up at him, powerful and deranged, and he gasped. "Ironic, huh?"  
Without a word, she drew her hand back, and slammed her fist straight through his abdomen. His eyes popped out of his head and he gagged on his own blood. The rain washed the crimson life from the roof and onto the streets below.  
The girl grabbed him by the throat and dragged his squeeling body to the edge of the building, which reached above fifty feet. Jerking his head over the side, she stared down at him, her eyes the color of wild fire.  
"So how does it feel, fuckface, to be beaten by an animal?" He spat blood in her face. She growled. "Not even your blood is worth my feeding. So what's your name, big boy?"  
He growled. "Britz."  
She giggled. "Okay then, when you get to Hell, tell them Annastasia Bathory sent you."  
Her gripped loosened, and he fell. 


End file.
